This Is England » Freddie Highmore

71.

I LOOKED at Amelia in shock. I honestly wasn't expecting her to say she'd go. I came to that conclusion for when she had snapped at me over the phone. I wanted to kiss her lips so badly, but I knew that if I did things would change quickly and she might leave the car. So, instead, I gave her a smile.

"Thank you." I replied. I then looked at the McDonald's restaurant entrance, nodding upward at it. "Would you like something to eat?" I asked.

Shrugging, Amelia nodded. "Sure, why not?"

I fished into the pocket of my jeans and pulled out my wallet. "Alright, then," I said. "what would you like?"

She pondered for a moment, then spoke. "One of those chicken wraps." she replied, "and an iced tea."

"Got it." I got out of the car and went inside. I ordered out the same thing as Amelia and as soon as we got our order, we began our drive to Camden Town, England.

..

"So this is where you grew up at?" Amelia asked as we finally approached Camden. It took about three hours by car, and surprisingly the traffic was quite smooth. Before we had arrived here, Amelia had called the university to inform them that she felt ill -- which was accurate because she let me know before she phoned the dean. She had been feel queazy and had headaches for the past few days.

"Yeah," I replied, coming into town. I pointed at a local pub I would sneak in with my parents when they'd go out. When they used to be in love. "when I was younger, my parents would sneak me in to that pub over there and sometimes when my mum wasn't looking, my dad would sneak me a sip of bourbon." I pointed at a bookstore I used to go to. "And before I moved out, Max and I would go to the bookstore that we just passed and look at the erotic section."

Amelia playfully slapped my arm. "You pervert! Or how do they say it here? You wanker!" I tilted my head back, laughing at how she said wanker. Her American accent always gave me a thrill.

I shrugged. "It's not my fault! Max and I were going through changes! And since we weren't sixteen yet, we could only find our sources elsewhere."

"When was the first time you had sex?" she suddenly asked me. I sort of tensed up at the thought, not because of the question but because of the fact she'd asked it. I was remembering the first time I truly stuck my dick inside of a girl, and made my through manhood.

"I was sixteen when I did it," I replied. "it wasn't all that great, really. The girl was a bit more experienced, and it sort of felt like she was taking advantage of me."

"I thought guys liked that?" Amelia replied.

"Just because someone is going at it hard and practically doesn't give you a choice doesn't make it pleasurable." I stated simply. "She didn't rape me, but the fact that I had sex with someone I didn't care about was stupid. I look back at it now and think: Wow, you really did a number there. I mean, her tits were bouncing and she was enjoying what I had, but there was something off."

"Well, why did you do it?" Amelia asked.

I shrugged. "All of the other guys at school were getting laid. Why couldn't I, the leader of one of the latest gangs in England, do the same?" I turned into a neighborhood. "I was peer pressured into doing it, Am."

"Wow," Amelia replied. "I'm sorry."

I shrugged. "It's fine," I said. "I got the experience. That's all that matters." I wanted to tell her that I now knew what love was felt like. What I felt when her and I made love in the past. Hell, I wanted to pull her to the backseat and make love right then, but I knew she was still questioning everything. Me, her, my life, us. I had to withdrawal from my desire.

Just then we pulled up into the familiar front yard of my childhood home. I stared at it for a long time, trying my hardest not to mentally go back to the past. "This is it." I finally said. "This is my house."

"Wow. . ." Amelia replied. "It's. . . It's. . ."

"A bit run down, I know." I replied simply. "I had sent some money last month, but sadly, my dad likes to take my money and splurge it on bullshite. I bet ye anything he's going to have a plasma TV in the bloody basement and --"

I suddenly interrupted by the front door opening with my younger brother and mother waking down the steps of our porch. Seeing my mother's frail face saddened me, but the minute the two of them reached my car window and I saw my mother's magnificent smile, all of the anguish washed away. I rolled down the window and gave her a little smile.

"Hello, Alfred." her raspy voice greeted, addressing my birth name. "It's been awhile, hasn't it?"

...